Nine Months
by Scarlet Secret
Summary: It had been nine months and the Doctor was not coming. Sarah Jane/Mrs Wormwood femslash. I apologise duly if anyone is squicked out.


A/N: I apologise if anyone doesn't like the pairing ;) This is set in an AU ending of 'Enemy of the Bane' - Mrs Wormwood won.

*************************************************************************************************

The Doctor was not coming.

It had been nine months and Sarah Jane had lived in a world of haziness, of loneliness and downright misery. Her hope was beginning to vanish.

The Doctor was not coming.

Mrs Wormwood is a clever woman. Bane. Bane-woman and she doesn't really do anything terrible to the planet earth. There had been some fairly dreadful incidents when she first took over (Sarah Jane has seen worse, seen more casualties so they don't seem that bad in the end) but the new ruler of the galaxies was not stupid enough to alert the Doctor before she has established herself.

So he's not coming.

A few small incidents, Clyde and Rani's memories wiped, the last Sontaran fallen into the portal, Luke brainwashed towards his new "mother" and Sarah Jane spending her days in chains. It all happened a bit fast for her to comprehend really.

The chains she can deal with. She thinks of Luke to give her strength and knows that one day he will come and liberate her. No, the chains don't bother her. The collar does. It's black leather, not designed to hurt but to humiliate and she finds this more intolerable than anything else that has happened. The lead attached lies limp by her naked thigh for most of the time. Her captor never stays long.

Her fate is not killing her body, it seems Mrs Wormwood had better plans for it than disintegration. She has her own rooms, heavily guarded of course, but she is not kept in squalor. She has her own little library full of fiction. If her head was clearer she's find it insulting. Or amusing. She can't decide which and she suspects that there is something in her food stopping her thought process from being what it was.

She has become a ghost, flitting around her room, seeing nobody but Mrs Wormwood. And only really seeing certain parts of her in any great detail. It had not taken the Bane-woman long to make clear what she wanted from Sarah Jane. After years in a human body it seems she had finally sussed out how to use it to its best advantage and was very eager to test out what she had learnt with her new slave. So whenever she's in the mood she'll saunter into her captive's room and calmly sit, pulling up her skirts with one hand and pulling Sarah Jane's lead with the other.

Sometimes Luke is there, but he has no memory of her. She is just an old woman, still an attractive one thank you very much, but an old woman who kneels before his creator and pleasures her. Sarah Jane cries on these occasions, soft tears that stain Mrs Wormwood's oddly pale thighs and if she were allowed to use her hands she'd bury her nails into the flesh as pitiful revenge. Afterwards the Bane-woman will make a comment that is usually a veiled invitation to join her, to be the Queen on this new world. She refuses every time naturally.

After nine months Mrs Wormwood grows curious about her captive's form. What had once been a cold, mocking gaze upon her bare flesh was becoming lustful and curious. When Sarah Jane had finished at her ever more frequent chore she found a foreign hand reach for her, bringing her face up. Soft fingers traced over her lips and jaw, seemingly fascinated at the moisture there before tracing a line down her neck to the top of her breast. She tried not to be affected. Tried forcing herself to be disgusted. But when the copper hair tumbled round her flushed face and she still had her legs open it was very easy to forget that Mrs Wormwood wasn't entirely human.

Once, she'd been brusquely asked whether she'd ever had children. No. Then asked if she was still able to have them. That had almost raised a laugh from her before she answered. No more was said about it after that day but she does sometimes worry. In the middle of the night she has terrible dreams that Mrs Wormwood will not take no for an answer for much longer and will demand Sarah Jane become her companion. She dreams of slimy tentacles sliding up her thighs ready to reproduce. She's vaguely interested as to what a human-bane hybrid would look like but she's adamant she's not going to supply the prototype. She feels something gliding up her leg and her eyes shoot open and her mind is thinking defensively. Although what a naked and chained woman could do exactly she's not sure.

The hand on her knee is human and softer than she expected. Almost as soft as the skin at her thigh she muses when Mrs Wormwood begins to crawl on her and she tries not to think about tentacles. This is the first time she's been touched properly in a long time, aside from that one incident. There are strong fingers, and soft strokes, and a warm wet tongue lapping at her and she tries so hard to hate it. To hate her captor. But Mrs Wormwood is startling good at this given that she knew nothing about sex till Sarah Jane arrived and this presumably is her first attempt. She'll make sure to get plenty of practice though, Sarah Jane knows this when she seems the wicked gleam in the other woman's eyes as she looks down on her captive trying not to writhe. Mrs Wormwood knows what she is doing, knows that Sarah Jane will hate herself for loving this, so she naturally has every intention of doing it again.

It had been twelve months and Sarah Jane had lived in a world of haziness, of loneliness, downright misery and regular nights of intense pleasure.

Somehow these nights make up for the fact that the Doctor is not coming.


End file.
